Inside The Greatest Criminal Mind
by Guyver Prime
Summary: Stranded after the events of Superman Returns, Lex Luthor reflects on things.
1. Time to think

This is the first piece I've ever done from the perspective of the greatest criminal mind of our time. Just came to me and thought I'd see how it goes.

Read, review and be merry… or evil… your choice.

* * *

It would appear that I have been given the opportunity to think, to take stock of recent events. This isn't necessarily a bad thing or a good thing. But either way, I think.

The irony is I got what I wanted. I got land, my own private island. Of course, sometimes irony isn't funny at all. Oh I got land alright, except a small insignificant speak of sand hardly compares to the continent I had created.

The same continent I saw lifted up into space… by him…. I suppose to have him, in his weakened state, falling back to Earth, to his death, would be too much to ask for…

So here I am the greatest criminal mind of our time, stranded with little more than a helicopter with an empty gas tank, no coconuts… and Kitty…

I can hear her talking… again… there's a pathetic sadness in her voice, she's muttering about what she lost with the sinking of boat… she's lost… her clothes, her makeup, the fact we have no more coconuts. She talks about the loss of her freedom, her career… just about her loss.

And she is continuously babbling on about it.

I must admit, I'm slightly amused by the thought that maybe, maybe she thinks I care? Heh. Then I begin to wonder what on Earth would lead her to that big a misconception… perhaps I'm too compassionate?

That thought bothers. It bothers me a great deal. Showing compassion, or even having any for that matter, is a fatal weakness. Even for 'gods' in red capes. And such a weakness is unbecoming of someone like me. The things I have done thus far in my lifetime are great. Oh you could debate whether they should be called great due to the rather boring 'good or evil' perspective people have, but they're still great things.

The death of millions of people is a great thing, especially when done in a way that could only be thought of by… a genius? Well, maybe I flatter myself but the truth is the truth.

So Kitty, especially after her actions… what she cost me… certainly does not deserve compassion and would not receive any, even if I had compassion to give.

My wondering amusement turns to anger at the thought… what did she do?!

The crystals… **my crystals…**

Although my anger consumes me at the thought, I'll allow her to live for now.

Just for now.

Despite everything.

Despite the constant complaining…. I'll allow her.

Despite the very thought that I have compassion or will show mercy… I'll allow her.

But most of all… the crystals… Kryptonian technology at my control, power and wealth within my grasp… and she throws it all out the door… literally.

Amazingly, despite that… I'll allow her.

But I have no doubt in my mind that one day; she will have out lived her usefulness and will be… disposed of.

That day will come.

It might be out of necessity.

Or maybe… maybe I'll just snap her neck.

But right now, as the stars shine above me, I lay back and think about escape, about my next move, about a young boy, about revenge.

And then she asks me a question...

* * *

Shall I go on? Let me know! Thanks! 


	2. How do you sleep?

_How do I sleep at night?_

Thinking about it, I've only ever been asked that question twice thus far in my life. And although it's certainly true that the question itself was asked for basically the same reasons, I find it oddly amusing that, despite the question being asked by two people who have never even met… they're both female.

If I had to sum up as to why that's the case, well, it wouldn't take an intellect of my magnitude to point out the fact that the female of the species, no matter what species that may be, can feel the cold more than the males of their kind. Certainly, men and women are capable of… evil, if you wish to trivialise it with that rather comic book term for a perfectly natural trait. But regardless of whoever performs the act, it's after effects, the coldness of it all, will ultimately be felt more by the females.

Maybe it's a weakness. But it's of no consequence to me. I mean after all, we all have our own faults. Nobody is perfect.

Well, almost nobody.

_Millions of innocent people will die… Billions…_

Ah yes, I guess that's what it comes down to, the loss of life. I've been called many names by many people.

I've been called sick.  
I've been called twisted.  
I've been called murderer.  
I've been called a diseased maniac.  
Most recently I was called an 'old man' who'd created an 'idea of a sick joke'.

An old man… hmph… petty… but an insult none the less.

But all of those verbal assaults on my person have been taken with a pinch of salt. Does that really make me a monster? No. Oh I have blood on my hands certainly, metaphorically speaking of course. Soldiers, worker ants, cannon fodder, grunts, call them what you will, but it is the puppets that go into battle and shed the crimson seas of violence. Not the commanders. Have I directly killed? Of course, at the touch of a button I've ended a human life.

Did I feel anything?

No.

Have I shot another human being?

Yes, yes I have. I pulled the trigger back and watched as the lights of life faded in their eyes, leaving nothing more than a memory. Although I must admit, I detest guns. Oh I'm certainly aware of their practicality and I admire the great things done with them, but they're so… archaic. Death by gunshot is such a shallow way to end a life. There are far many more interesting ways to, dispose, of someone. I don't carry one myself, but I do respect the gun. Can I use a gun? Yes, and I'm a superb marksman, thank you.

I could of course continue in great detail about the lives lost by my actions or by my own hands but that isn't the point. The point is the question and the answer is what's wanted. After all, you ask a question to get an answer.

So here, in that vain, is a smaller question linked to the larger one.

Do you feel anything, when you kill?

The answer is simple… no.

That doesn't make me a diseased maniac or a sick and twisted murderer. Who are they to call me such things anyway, especially…?

I won't digress to him… Not yet…

You see, I don't feel a thing for the simple fact that every single life lost…. was out of necessity.

It had to be done.

I have… dreams, goals, aspirations, and desires just like anyone else, albeit grander due to the fact that I am, well I won't brag…. So it goes without saying that for me to get what I want, certain sacrifices must be made. Not personal ones of course as I can't really recall anything being sacred to me. So if it's the lives of millions or even billions between me and what I want, well who are they to stand there? The saying goes 'you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs'. And it's true.

And you certainly can't become the greatest criminal mind of our time, without being completely devoid of minor annoyances, such as a conscience.

So I feel no guilt for the so called horrors I have committed against mankind, the planet itself or even an alien from another world. All of those acts, all the lives lost or those that may be lost by my future endeavours are just stepping stones towards my destiny.

And regardless of what I've done, what I've tried to do and even now what I plan on doing, the answer to the question Kitty just asked me, the very same question Miss Teschmacher once asked me many years ago, has not changed at all.

How does Lex Luthor, the greatest criminal mind of our time, sleep at night?

Very well, thank you.


	3. Different shades of Red

Despite that question, sleep, or any kind of rest for that matter, is very much out of the question at this time given the circumstances.  
Dare I close my eyes and open them to… Well, it goes without saying that the sea around me and the skies above are the only blue I wish to see.

I see red...

Certainly not the red cape of a 'god', no, again I have no desire to see that right now. One day I'll see it again. But that time will be on my terms. And no, it's not the red haze of anger that is currently fading, clearing my vision to its normal cool, calm and collected state. The red in question is the warm, tingling, stinging gentle redness on the back of my hand. But it's an expected consequence of striking someone. I look down to see Kitty, lying face down, clawing at the golden sand beneath her in some attempt to not only pick herself up but in an effort to numb the pain coursing through her cheek and jaw. She looks up at me; our eyes meet as tears stream down her face to her blood tainted quivering lips.

Of course, I feel no guilt, remorse, regret or any of those weak hindering emotions for striking her. It was a necessary act. She continued to defy my simple order, to shut up.  
Therefore it was necessary to shut her up. So no, as she slowly rises to her feet, wiping the blood from her lips, I feel nothing. Well except a cold readiness, as I fully believe she may possibly be stupid enough to repeat the action that resulted in her being silenced by hand in the first place.

She questioned me...

And I certainly will not tolerate being questioned, especially by someone who could not even begin to grasp the concepts created by my genius intellect. Explaining to Kitty the story of Prometheus and how Kryptonian technology was going to give me infinite wealth and power was like talking to a wall. Well, the wall would have understood quicker than Kitty most likely. Of course, she can't even begin to really comprehend the simple fact that throwing my crystals out of the helicopter will cost her. But oh, she knows. She simply hides from the inevitable.

Right now, if I thought for a second that it would work, I would rip out her jugular and fill the gas tank with every single drop of her life's' blood if it would get the helicopter flying again. I don't know which aggravates me more, the fact that that wouldn't work, or that I'm trying, almost desperately, to think of a way, a beneficial way, to kill Kitty and I'm not coming up with anything. Well at the very least she should be incredibly grateful. Because of my current situation, being unable to formulate a suitable end, Kitty is earning a reprieve.

A temporary reprieve...

I walk away from the pathetic sobbing, putting a small distance between Kitty and myself before sitting down on the highest point of my own private island.

I feel a small sense of amusement as I reflect on my current status. Ah, Lex the great, the king sitting upon his throne having seized the high ground. Well that may be overestimating things, even for one as… gifted, as myself. So I'll instead settle for the truth, the far more accurate and delightful truth.

I am Lex Luthor.

I am no mere king, sitting on a simple chair that is made to sound more than it is by being given a pompous name. No.

I am Lex Luthor.

And I am the greatest criminal mind of our time.

But to become the greatest criminal mind of **all** time, well, to gain such a title would require, in my opinion, the destruction, the death, of a certain symbol of everything deemed to be… good.

As I lie back and begin to lose myself in my contemplations, my hand instinctively slides back into my coat pocket. Grasping the small jagged shard of rock in my fist; I feel a warm viscous liquid on my fingers. My lips curl into a small grin as I feel an almost gentle pleasure wash over me…

His blood… His blood on my hands... Literally. I guess sometimes it pays to do things yourself. Because the small joy I feel at having personally made him bleed his own blood is a feeling I will keep with me… until I do it again…

I pull my hand out, leaving the kryptonite in my pocket, and stare, almost transfixed by the blood on my fingers. I get another joyous chill run down my spine as I think to myself… I hurt him. Even if he did survive my attack and managed once again to ruin everything, I hurt him. And me, hurting him, that's a very pleasing, thought indeed.

Although once again, I believe that him dying due to his Kryptonite exposure whilst lifting my continent into space would be too much to ask for. But still, one can dream. I have hope. Because although as much as I wish as I was wrong, I'm unfortunately very rarely wrong, almost never actually, I know deep down in my sickened gut, that my dream won't come to pass.

No, instead I will have to continue to live out the nightmare of him being alive.

For now…

Just… for now…


	4. The Calm Before

With Kitty finally understanding the simple concept of remaining silent, the only sound that washes into my calm mind are the waves hitting the shore of my own private island.

Oh I am perfectly capable of conducting a full and complicated train of thought during a storm of noise, including the annoying voice of the woman here with me. But in this instance her silence is maintained not just because every single word she speaks infuriates and reminds me of what her weak bleeding heart cost me, but most importantly she will remain silent for the very same reason I shall.

_Him…_

Searching for a needle in the vast blue haystack of the ocean is a daunting task, even for the Man of Steel whose ocular abilities are deemed 'far beyond those of mortal men'.

_Mortal men… Mortal wounds… I stabbed you, pierced your flesh… I made you bleed…_

I look again at my hand. Having washed my hand in the salt water to remove the aliens' blood, my fingers show barely traces of the crimson that once stood out so prominently after I stabbed him. Any other man and it wouldn't mean a thing. But this man, this mans blood on my hands… it fascinates me, thrills me. I feel actual joy, at having hurt him. And I have every intention of not only feeling this way again, but next time? Well if this is joy, then I demand nothing less than feeling pure unadulterated bliss. Maybe that's what revenge is, the acquirement of bliss. But again I'm sidetracked by the thought of his blood.

_Blood… The Man of Steel bleeds… The 'god' truly is mortal… And above all else, the reminder of what I already knew yet still comforts me to hear time and time again… He can die…_

_But then that's not enough, not now… not after what he did to me… because I really know how to hurt you…_

Silence, ah yes the imposed silence. Its reason is obvious, yet still needed to be explained to Kitty before it was implemented. Do I put that down to her incompetence? No, she has, some modicum of intellect. It's just that she, unlike myself, doesn't plan every single detail of what she's doing, saying and is about to do and say whilst being fully aware of what he is capable of doing.

So, for me, it really is quite simple.

_Super-hearing…_

He could hear my voice and just follow it to its source. Sure there are billions of voices in this world, but when all you need is one distinctive voice, the voice of someone who has done the things I have, well, he'd find me. I'm certain that he'd find me. And that I obviously can't allow. Kitty raised the point that she is free to talk as she doubts he would remember her voice, which may well be a valid point, but then I'm biased in this regard as I would very much like to wipe Kitty and her dull monotonous tone from my memory. But I've shut her up not just because I won't take that chance, but also because she also has a habit of using my name at any given time without thought. Not an odd thing under normal circumstances, certainly.

The voice of Kitty Kowalski saying 'Lex', ringing in the Man of Steels ears… that is not something I wish to happen as mere seconds later, well, I don't enjoy his company to say the least, so why help him find us that much faster.

That simply can not happen. Not for the obvious reasons of jail, life imprisonment and the daily knowledge that he is not dead. Oh no, not just that, despite being very important. Although that would matter not considering what I will assure people, the alien himself included, will be a very, very brief incarceration before my escape…. And I will escape… But I refuse to be caught because not only am I the greatest criminal mind of our time and I will not live in a cage, but I will not rest until the Man of Steel has been hurt, broken and destroyed. Not just what he stands for, not just the man himself but also the ones he holds dear.

Everything goes still now. No crashing of the waves, no noise at all from Kitty… just my shallow breathing as I concentrate solely on one thing.

It's inevitable that the thoughts of him have broken through the surface and all my mind can focus on is Superman…

And what I think and how I feel about him…


	5. Believing a Man Could

Do I hate Superman?

Yes.

Have I always hated Superman?

No.

Oh I know some people may find that hard, even impossible to believe but it is true. A lot of people know my name, not just because it's the name of the greatest criminal mind of our time, but simply because on a few occasions, I have tried to kill their beloved man of steel. And for that my level of infamy has grown some what, along with public hatred towards me. Which of course, I care nothing about.

But I haven't always hated Superman, not at all. Granted I've never liked or respected him but at the beginning, it was never about the man. 

For you see, there it was, the crime of the century. Meticulously planned to every detail and executed with precise timing. Yes I'm casting a blind eye to Otis' total incompetence but that's ok as his mistake was rectified. And I fully realised that a great mind such as me, shouldn't associate with someone who remembers numbers, simple numbers, by writing them down his arm. I'm suddenly questioning why anybody in their right mind wouldn't have written them on the back of their hand? Or on a piece of paper kept in their pocket? Or still, if absolutely necessary to write on down your arm, how do you run out of room? A long arm… a very long, arm…

But once more I'm digressing and although that's no bad thing, I should not waste time thinking of Otis.

So the crime of the century, it was perfect in every single way. Well, what else would you expect from a scheme born of my intellect?

And then, the pathetic mass hysteria began as every other person walking the street would say 'Look, up in the sky…', as if nobody had said that before them. Superman, a friend, a strange visitor from another planet with abilities far beyond those of mortal men had come to Earth pledging to fight for Truth, Justice and the American way.  
When he first made his appearance, many believed it was nothing more than a prank, a stunt. But I knew different. I have always, from the very first moment, known that the Kryptonian was the genuine article. 

Yes, I, Lex Luthor, believed a man could fly.

That however, had nothing to do with Superman whatsoever but is entirely down to the Marx Brothers. Yes man can fly… in aeroplanes. But for an actual man to take flight? No, no stunt or prank. As I told Ms. Tesmacher, if anyone was going to perpetrate such a fantastic hoax, then it would've been me. So no, this man in a red cape was not of this world, he was an alien, a being from another planet.

But did that make me dislike him? Is Lex Luthor, greatest criminal mind of our time, a xenophobe?

Of course I'm not.

I have no discrimination towards his origins whatsoever. I have in fact welcomed his technology and heritage with open arms… _fire from the gods…_

Was it that he was given adulation for being 'good'? Or that he had powers that would leave any man with a thirst for power, such as myself, with a bitter taste of jealousy? Or maybe it's because that he may ultimately, his powers, his technology, his morals, his ethics… maybe he is simply the very end of the evolutionary scale?

In Thus Sprach Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzssche wrote of the 'overman' being beyond man and that man would be nothing but a joke and an embarrassment to him. Possibly this, Superman, was indeed Nietzsche's 'overman' writings coming to pass. Perhaps the time of man being the dominant evolution on the planet Earth had come to an end, an end heralded by the arrival of the 'super' man.

Humanity would now and forever be looking up, and whereas before they would only see what they could be, they would see him as well. A reminder of what they would never be… 'Super'.

The perfect person who we all must aspire to and then, when the need arises, we wait for him to pick us up, dust us off and continue to save us instead of us learning to pick ourselves up?

_Why the world doesn't need Superman… a truly wonderful article, highly worthy of the award it received yet did anybody actually read it? Or even follow its advice? The pathetic drones at work… the key words of 'doesn't' and 'need' not even registering in their brains…_

But no, it was none of that. Those very thoughts are as ridiculous as thinking that I wanted to destroy him because he got his powers from 'our' sun.

It was not to kill him for who he is, no, why would I when I knew about us much about his personality as everyone else who read that 'I spent the night with Superman' article. Well of course, that article gave me more than it gave most people, as ultimately it led me to Addis Ababa. 

_Perhaps I should be more grateful for that article… Maybe I'll thank Lois Lane for interviewing and Superman for being such an interesting source of information, so much so I became fascinated by something, until that time, I'd never concerned myself with… meteorites._

_Specifically, a certain one scientifically named Sodium lithium boron silicate hydroxide with fluorine. More commonly know by the name I myself gave it… Kryptonite._

But even then, armed with the one substance that would destroy him, it wasn't about killing the man in the suit. It was all about killing what he represents. Superman, the shining beacon of all things good, pure, true and just in this world, a symbol for peace and justice and therein was the reason he had to die. To put it into it's simplest context for those who foolishly see the world in black and white and not how it really is, Superman is the good guy, the ultimate law enforcer if you will. Then there is me, Lex Luthor, the 'bad guy', the criminal, a symbol for what people believe is wrong with the world.

It is a basic plain school yard perception of right and wrong, good versus evil. As naïve and foolish as it is to believe there is such a thing as 'Truth, Justice and the American way'. Who's Truth? Truth is opinion, just one persons perspective on something. My truth is that Superman is better off dead. Other people's truth may be different, though I do not care for others truth. Then there's justice. Is there really such a thing as justice anymore? I too see the atrocities some people 'get away with' sometimes due to the flawed system of justice. Again that is of no concern. But maybe in a sense, in a strange way it does.

I have had dreams, goals and aspirations. All I wanted was to have land, wealth and power. Although billions would have died as a result of my actions, that doesn't alter the fact I, like anyone else, wanted to be a successful man. But because of one man, all my ambitions have thus far been crushed. Where is the justice in that? That one man takes it upon himself to fly above us all, before landing on my dreams.

So did I hate him? Did I hate the man inside the suit with no real name except for the one given to him by a swooning reporter? No. I hated what he stood for. And so, for that reason and that reason alone, I knew that I simply had to destroy him.

So, I had the crime of the century and now… I had the challenge of the century.

But even then… no, I didn't hate him… not yet…


	6. A Leader of Men?

"Le…" I'm glaring at Kitty even before she begins to pitifully attempt to correct her monumental mistake, "Lenny…"

Her voice, calling out even the sound of 'Le' could be disastrous. The look in my eyes informs her of all she needs to know as she promptly puts her head down and continues fumbling with what's in her hand. The anger inside simmers for a moment… speaking and calling me Lenny, it's as if she tests me on purpose. I rise quickly to my feet and take a few tentative steps forward, scanning the horizon and the heavens above…

Moments pass…

Then I feel it…

A sudden rush of wind blows from behind me, sending a cold chill down my spine and deep into my very being.

The sound of the strong gust of wind is joined by the sickening sound of material flapping in the breeze.

Feeling, almost nervous for a brief second, before grasping firmly onto the Kryptonite in my pocket, ready to uncoil with it like a viper, I slowly turn around….

And I see Kitty… shaking and flapping a large blanket open as she lays it across the ground, gusts of air blowing into my face as it flails through the air. My grip on the kryptonite remains firm as I consider that, despite her not being Kryptonian, it would still very satisfyingly tear into her flesh…. But no, she may have a use yet.

She will live for now and so once again, for the time being, I find myself with company.

But one may ask why, Lex Luthor, feels the need to surround himself with anybody, let alone the incompetents I have admittedly burdened myself with in the past. These people have never been accomplices, no; I share neither schemes nor spoils with anyone. My aspirations, my undertakings are my labour and therefore I and I alone will reap the fruits. Ultimately, at a point when it is far too late, they will realise that they are expendable. So what then, are they?

Mrs Teschmacher… Otis… Stanford… Brutus… Grant… Riley… Kitty…

Then there was dear Gertrude Vanderworth… That was a labour unlike any other I have undertaken, feigning love to a withered old crone was something that is quite haunting yet it paid handsomely when she finally had the decency to die.

I have people as my allies, simply because they are tools, implements with which I can use to fulfil my endeavours. Like tools I pick them up, use them as long as necessary and then… the inevitability of outliving their usefulness. I certainly do not have people around me because I wish to have a following. Oh no. One thing I am not is a dictator.

Do I see myself as a leader? No, not particularly. I have no real desire to command as such. So do I see my self as an inspiration, someone who, like a son from a distant star, could be a light to show the way? Again, no, for I have no burning ambition to be a standard bearer for anybody.

True, I am the greatest criminal mind of our time, but that is not because I either wish to have a following or be a symbol for anything whatsoever. My brilliance is a truly awe inspiring thing. But I will not use it to help others simply because I have personal dreams and ambitions, so therefore, I will do the very human thing of helping myself.

At large I command a certain amount of, well I would not rush to use the word respect but my infamy as the not only the greatest criminal mind of our time but also the man who almost killed Superman, bestows me with a status, if you will. There are the dogs, the pick pockets, the petty thieves. There are the wolves, the murderers, the rapists, those who commit fantastic crimes.

Then there is Lex Luthor.

But when put into an environment where even my monumental intellect, resources, brilliance and cunning have no impact, give me no quarter or separate me from my fellow man, dropped into an ocean with sharks even bigger than myself? Well, I found myself in such a place. I became a number, a statistic, someone as vulnerable as the person in line next to me. I entered alone and knew that to survive, I would simply have to do what I've always done. Make convenient and self beneficial allegiances.

As I told Kitty, in prison, even Lex Luthor becomes leader to no man.

I did once before have to make an allegiance to predators almost, almost, beyond myself.

Three Kryptonian criminals, each one of them had the same powers as him. Although the best thing was their desire to destroy him, it was almost perfect. The enemy of my enemy was my… Oh well now, I certainly not use the word friend. Not because I have none and do not wish for any, but they too, where little more than super powered implements. They would kill our mutual problem in the red cape, they would rule the world and I, for the tiny part I played, would get Australia.

Well… that is what they thought…. He was just one and they where three… but one fact remained…

Mind over muscle… Even three times the muscle.

The kryptonians saw things going thusly, they kill the son of Jor-El and then rule the world, which was absolutely fine with me, to a point. I was all for the killing part of the plan obviously. But I took exception to the rest of it. I would take Australia as my own, bide my time, waiting. I have no desire for it; I'm simply out for my cut. The greatest criminal mind thrives in a free world, with one dictatorship; I would either wither and die, or have to pretty much retire. Neither of those two things appeals to me.

Oh and of course, there is the one slightly significant thing that I, Lex Luthor, will kneel before no one.

So where someone to rule over Earth, regardless of whether or not I was in their favour… Well, I would not allow it. Before I even stepped foot into what remained of the White House, I had already begun plans to go on a small vacation, to a place I had been to before and found had remarkable souvenirs.

A charming place called Addis Adaba.

They had their goals of the death of the son of their jailer and then world domination. They would do it of course, I fully believed, they would kill him and then slowly cross the finish line and claim their prize, the planet Earth. Yet at the finish line, I would be there, waiting, smiling… shortly before I killed them with Kryptonite.

Mind over muscle…

I would not have stepped into the vacuum left by their deaths, taking place on the throne of the world, oh no. I would have taken what I could, got my cut, and left, the planet returning to how it once was…. Although it would now be Kryptonian free.

I smile a small smile, a simple mocking remembrance…

General Zod… A simple, shallow, short sighted man with power wasted on someone whose self importance spans galaxies. So wrapped up in his narrow minded agendas to have revenge on Jor-El and to rule he was as simple minded as that brainless behemoth Non. At least Ursa seemed capable of diverse thought, even if she had nothing but blind allegiance. Zod was a man who pathetically justified his so called supremacy by calling himself 'General'.

A psychiatrist's field day… What a sanctimonious pitiful little man…

How is it that a man from a world that has long since died can parade around as having any kind of General authority? He was nothing of any importance and would have died by kryptonite like any common Kryptonian.

So like all the other people I have had around me throughout my criminal career, they where simply a means to an end. That is all anyone ever is. I keep them at hand for a specific reason until such time as I see fit or until they become obsolete. Right now it's beneficial to keep her alive as Kitty has a certain potential usefulness.

As it is always good to have a sentimental, comforting woman around if you're going to have a child in your possession.


End file.
